


-Magicless-

by Kairat11



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), malec - Fandom
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Malec, POV Alec Lightwood, POV Magnus (main), Supportive Alec, Supportive and caring boyfriends for the win, Vulnerable Magnus Bane, i couldn't love these two more, sweet boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 19:05:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17350880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kairat11/pseuds/Kairat11
Summary: Magnus ruminates about his lost magic. Alec comforts him.





	-Magicless-

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all, 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this short one-shot as much as I did writing it. I miss these boys so much.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Happy reading :3

                                                
Here he was, alone, clothed in black silk pajamas and a fluffy cobalt blue robe and feet warmed by dark wool socks, in the middle of the algid night—pondering, ruminating his present state.  
  
He was _mortal_.  
  
He was _magicless_.  
  
He had given up his immortality, his birthright, a huge part of himself to his father—to save Jace and ultimately, Alec.  
  
He didn’t regret it one bit. The Shadow World was saved by his decision. By his sacrifice of love. But then, why did he feel so cold, so lost, so..., so indescribably hallow.  
  
No resentment lived in him. He made a choice out of his own free will. Yet, he couldn’t help but hate his father for his selfishness. But it was stupid and naive of him to expect anything less from a Prince of Hell.  
  
A shiver traveled up his feet and to his chest; the cold he felt was within. No matter how many layers covered his body, his soul was unclothed out in a raw winter.  
  
It was only during these times when the sky was kissed by darkness and it was barely star-dotted and the moon shone faintly through the whisky clouds that he felt heart achingly melancholic.  
  
_Who was he now?_  
  
What could he do to be useful?  
  
How could he save anyone when his magic was no more?  
  
He was but a _regular mundane_ now. Vulnerable to death and sickness.  
  
_Powerless._  
  
Mortal.  
  
_How could he help Alec or protect him?_  
  
A myriad of questions, all of them unanswered.  
  
He had descried from the many furtive looks the Nephilim threw at him how sorry he felt. How guilty he felt for Magnus’s state. How everyone else was so considerate and concerned when before they weren’t as much.  
  
Guilt reeked and made him want to vomit.

He felt rended by a multitude of convoluted emotions. Lacerated by uncertainty.  
  
Pity (not from Alec) felt like a slap on the face and a dagger to his heart. He despised being pitied, because it made him face forcefully what he had lost.

He felt small.  
  
Now he could get drunk with three glasses of scotch or five dirty martinis. But it felt good because it numbed the senses and made him forget if only for a few hours this feeling of desolation that was eating at him.  
  
It wasn’t because he lost his powers. No, that wasn’t it. It was the fact that his ability to help was now limited.  
  
Oh, by Lilith! How he abhorrent dwelling in self-pity.

But...  
  
He didn’t want to be a burden to his friends and specially to Alec.  
  
_Defeat._  
  
As he looked at the pitch-black veil above and his eyes hopped from star to star, the thought of his cat eyes that he for so long previously hated, crossed his mind. It hurt to remember them, he even missed them with aching fondness.  
  
_Gloom._  
  
His fingers were now hard as icicles; his fingertips now sparkless felt frosty— so, he brought his arms around himself and hid his hands against the soft warm robe. A lengthy shuddery sigh escaped him and his breath came out of him as a thick mist.  
  
_Hopelessness._  
  
Then, out of nowhere and without him noticing, a column of heat stood behind him and thaw his frozen body awake. His stomach dropped and butterflies flew in his belly at the touch of sweet arms embracing him.  
  
Magnus was a magical man with or without his magic. So strong and resilient, but to see him like this was gut-wrenching. He would smile, a beautiful yet sad smile with a gaze so affectionate and guarded it wrecked Alec’s heart. Alec wanted to erase all the pain pooled in those deep brown eyes; he wanted to make the forced smiles genuine again. He wanted Magnus’s heart to ache with love and happiness instead of sorrow and loss. He felt guilty, because in his desperation to save Jace he said words that might have pushed Magnus to give up his magic. In a way, he secretly wished Magnus would have yell at him and gotten angry, but the warlock had too big of a heart to be anything but kind.

“Alec, my love, what are you doing out of bed?” he sussurred as he turned his face to look at that beloved sleepy face.

“I came to get you, the bed is freezing without you,” his angel murmured into his hair.

His soul felt aglow with profound fondness for this lovely man hugging him so tightly.   
  
“You’re my guardian angel. Jace’s savior. I’m so grateful to you— for your selflessness, for your kindness, for your love,” whispered the sleepy Nephilim in his right ear, his breath hot lava against his gelid skin.

He had saved Jace for Alec— that was the naked truth. Yes, he liked Jace and worried about him and felt greatly responsible for how things turned out because of his spell, but he mainly did it for Alec. He couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Alec in pain and in distress because of his Parabatai’s atrocious state. Magnus did what he had to do and he didn’t regret it—love was scary that way. 

Before he could try to make his tongue move, the Shadowhunter continued, “You’re caring and giving and wise. You might be magicless but not defeated. Your magic was an intrinsic part of you, but you’re so much more than that. But I know you’re hurting, Magnus. And I hate it. We will get your magic back. I promise.”

Those words made his heart tremble.

Alec always knew what to say at any given time to take his breath away and leave him speechless. To be appreciated this much, to be consoled and heard without uttering a single word, to be given warmth when he was cold and hope when he was hopeless—it was a touching blessing. Not everything was bad, not everything was lost. He lost his magic but he still had knowledge. Knowledge was also power.  
  
_Magicless but not defeated._  
  
He liked that.

He felt that now in his blood and in the marrow of his bones.  
  
Magic was part of him, just like his feline eyes, irreverence and style. It was a part of him, but it wasn’t what made him  _Magnus Bane_.  
  
Magnus Bane was strong-hearted and strong-willed and resilient—he’ll get through this valley of shadows with his determination and the angel behind him. Just like the light his magic creates when called forth, he’ll light up the darkness around him. His father will regret igniting the flame of rebellion inside of him.

It’s been stirred— his passion, his resolve—he won’t wait mopping around any longer, his magic was calling him to claim it back.

“We will get through this together. You’re not alone, Magnus. I’m not going anywhere, you hear me?” declared his lover in an ironclad tone that left no place for hesitation. Without looking at those limpid hazel eyes, he could feel the determination in them against his flesh. 

Magnus could only but nod, because Alec’s promises had caused a knot to wrap around his throat.   

He didn’t want Alec to bear the responsibility of his loss, although he understood too well it was almost impossible to be rid of it. Yet, he wanted to soothe that feeling if only a bit. 

“It was my choice, Alexander.” 

It took only but a couple of seconds to get a reply. 

“I know, but-” 

“No buts. Please don’t feel guilty, my love. It makes me feel worse,” he admitted before he drew in a deep breath and let himself meet a beloved face. 

Slowly, he turned in Alec’s arms and went to cradle that adorable sleep-warm face in his very cold hands, which sent the body pressed to his own aquiver. His lips felt compelled to remedy the situation and warm-up his sweet man, and as his cool lips touched those soft ones waiting for his heat, the warmth spread to all the parts of him that had collected snow. He let Alec’s delicious fire consume him, fill his head and heart with thoughts and feelings other than pessimism—it felt good, so good to be fed with such eagerness.  __  
  
“Thank you, Alexander. I love you,” he whispered into the obsidian night.  
  
“I love you too,” came the reply carried by the chilly wind, embellished with a hot breath against his richly flavored lips. 

As their mouths fused and their tongues tangled and their arms found their way to each other’s waist and neck, a little voice inside his head rose above the chaotic noise, it uttered rather desperately words like solemn affirmations. 

_‘You’re not a tool. You don’t have to save the day to be worthy of love.’_

He was no longer the High Warlock nor a ‘warlock’ in the physical sense of the word, but he was still _Magnus Bane_ who was also a lover and amazing boyfriend among other things.

_Magicless (for now), but not defeated. Never defeated._

In the middle of the night—cold and silent—he was no longer alone, and he was glad.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated. 
> 
> Want more Malec?  
> [Call Me Darling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17039144)  
> [In Love And Sorrow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13314192/chapters/30472236)


End file.
